


Acquainted

by Laenix



Series: Acquainted: Foster Family AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Age bending lots of it, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Foster Dad Hercules Mulligan, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Pining, Teacher Aaron Burr, burr gets dragged to the moon, herc's foster home for imaginary spies, i dont know clothes or teaching rules, mentioned transphobia, theoliza mentioned, tired john laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laenix/pseuds/Laenix
Summary: “You see, Little Alexander,” Laf said, when Alex showed no sign of getting it. “Our dear foster father here has been trying to, as you might say, get into Burr’s pants, for the past two years.”“Oh my god,” Alex echoed, wrinkling his nose at Herc in disgust. “But he’s, like, so...old.”





	

Growing up, Hercules Mulligan had fond memories of going around town with his mother every winter. They donated clothes to churches and fundraisers and schools. He would play with all the children, beaming when they danced in the dresses he’d sewn, rolled around in the snow with the sweaters his mother knitted, ran down hills in a brand-new pair of pants. 

It became harder to do, once her children had to go to college and get jobs. When Mrs. Mulligan died, two years after her son had raised enough money to open Mulligan’s Clothing, Herc decided to reincorporate her passion for helping children into his own life.

His brother was worried when he told him he wanted to be a foster parent. “It takes so much work, man, are you sure? You have no idea where these kids come from, who they are.” Hugh was across the country, lived with his wife and two kids in a nice neighborhood with a park. It was thanks to him, being a rock and a safety net, that Herc could go into the fashion industry with relatively few worries.

“It’s what Mom would’ve wanted, you know?” Herc responded simply. “I feel like I owe it to her.”

Four years later, Herc was hitting his head on the bottom of his desk, where he’d dropped a ball of thread, to shout, “No running in the store!”

But by then it was too late – the perpetrator had already crossed through the small shop to the set of stairs leading to the apartment upstairs, and slammed the door. 

A second later, Lafayette trailed through, automatically ducking slightly to avoid their hair hitting the small bell above the door. 

“Was that Alex?” Herc asked. “What’s going on?” 

They shrugged, sliding their bag off their shoulder and popping out an earbud. “I don’t know the details,” Laf said, with a wry smile, “though I believe Little Alex may have gotten himself into some trouble today.”

Herc hummed. “I guess he’s not in the mood to talk.”

“Perhaps we ought to give him some time,” Laf agreed. 

He and Laf chatted about an upcoming school play for a while, when Laf tentatively asked about helping them on some costumes. Thrilled and honored, Herc began sketching out concepts with them for the next two hours. 

The closed the store around five, and were discussing what to have for dinner when John came in through the apartment door. “Yo,” he drawled as he wandered into the kitchen. “I’m staaarving.”

“Then you better get your ass in a shower, and make it fast,” Herc said, glaring at John when the teen moved to drop his paint-specked jacket on floor until he changed his mind. “And get Alex, I want the two of you to cut veggies for me.”

“He was not in the mood to come down when I called on him earlier,” Laf said from the sink. “We thought you might have a better time with luring him out.”

“Oh,” John said, shifting awkwardly. “He ain’t told you?”

“Told me what?” Herc couldn’t keep the wariness out of his voice, but kept his body relaxed. If he wasn’t careful, John would likely shut him out, especially if he thought any harm might come to his foster brother. “What is it?”

He needn’t have worried, because John’s eyes went skyward, and he said with an amused shrug, “Alex got Old Man Burr-ed.”

They all exchanged glances at that, and broke out into sniggers.

“Y’all knuckleheads will be the death of me,” Herc sighed. 

-.-.-

The door to Alex and John’s room was shut, so Herc had to knock. “Alex? Can I come in?”

There was shuffling on the other side, and then a soft click as Alex unlocked the door. He watched the young teen step back further than necessary to let Herc through. 

The bedroom wasn’t very big, a bunk-bed and two desks lined the space snugly. John’s bunk was a mess – clothes spread across it, and a small toy basketball hoop was pinned above it. Below it, Alex’s bed was freshly made, with a cheap backpack thrown on top of it. Alex’s desk had more to say about its owner, covered in papers and pens, and a small garbage can with several crumpled pieces of paper inside. 

“Hey, Mr. Mulligan.” Alex’s voice sounded flatter than usual, his vowels narrowed in – closer to the way he would try to conceal his accent when he’d first joined them.

“Herc, remember?” he reminded gently.

Alex nodded once, his hands jittering across the desk. “Did John tell you?”

“He told me that one of your teachers wants to have a meeting. Mr. Burr, to be exact.”

Alex sighed, and pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, and handed it over. It had been unfolded and refolded several times, enough to thin the edges, but the date proved that Alex had just gotten it this morning. 

It was a formally pre-written note, politely requesting the parent/guardian of (insert student name here) _Alexander Hamilton_ , to check the list of time-slots below to schedule a meeting with (insert faculty member name here) _Aaron Burr_ , to discuss the matter of (describe issue here) _Alexander’s habitual disruption in the classroom_ , and to provide a signature below as confirmation.

Herc barely gave the slip a passing glance, and set it aside in favor of watching Alex, who had suddenly lost all of the nervous energy that had been running through him. Instead he stood at attention, his eyes going to a spot on the wall. He moved to Alex’s bed, taking a seat to match eye level with Alex. And it gave him a clearer path to the door that had been left open, just in case.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, man?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Then I’ll let your teacher tell it,” Herc said. “Is that what you want instead?”

Alex’s gaze skidded over to Herc, displeasure curling on his face. “Why’s it even matter? It’s not like telling you will get me outta trouble.”

“It matters,” Herc said immediately. “Alex, I’m telling you that I want to hear your story. Whether or not you get in trouble, the most important thing is to understand why things happened, to prevent this sort of thing from happening in the future. Don’t you agree?”

He could tell by the look on Alex’s face that he didn’t, and Herc understood why. It showed in the way Alex stood in the middle of the room like a guest, the way only John’s pictures decorated the walls and desks, the way all of Alex’s notebooks were still tucked away in a box in the closet. 

But Herc had learned to be patient. 

“I called him a dangerous disgrace to the public education system. That he obviously didn’t have any passion for U.S. History, and shouldn’t be teaching it.”

Herc whistled. “That’s pretty bad.”

“I also said he would need to kiss the ass of every faculty member just to keep his job, and even that wouldn’t work because everyone can see what a two-faced slimy Q-Tip he was.”

“That’s… a lot worse.”

Alex nodded miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s me you need to say that to. It’s him you insulted after all.”

That only seemed to distress Alex more. “Well, I also…”

“What?”

He took a deep breath, and stared at Herc in the eye. “It’s not the first time. He’s given me detention three times already.”

“Don’t I usually get a note when that happens?”

“I forged your signature.”

“Jesus. I’ll take that apology then. And you’re grounded now. I’ll see exactly how much after I talk to your teacher.”

Alex blinked, his eyebrows raising in a helpless expression. “Grounded? You aren’t gonna…” He made an indecipherable motion with his hands, but Herc could guess.

“Kid, I’ve been a foster parent for four years. You’d have to do a lot more than have a damned classroom spat to scare me off.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“I know.” He dropped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Eventually, we’ll talk about what I can do to earn your trust.”

Alex’s mouth fell open and snapped shut a number of times, until his swallowed thickly and nodded. “Think I’ll get suspended?”

Herc scoffed. “Hardly. I think you’ll find that Mr. Burr isn’t as much of a hardass as you think.”

“How do you mean?”

“John and Laf were in his class before. You think this is the first notice I’ve gotten from him?”

“I… you mean…”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Herc said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Burr is well acquainted with my signature, Alex.”

There was a snicker from the door. They looked up to see John and Laf peeking in. “You could even say,” John said with a wide grin, “Old Man Burr’s well acquainted with his _John Hancock_.”

“Oh my god,” Herc said faintly. 

“You see, Little Alexander,” Laf said, when Alex showed no sign of getting it. “Our dear foster father here has been trying to, as you might say, get into Burr’s pants, for the past two years.”

“Oh my god,” Alex echoed, wrinkling his nose at Herc in disgust. “But he’s, like, so… _old_.”

“He’s twenty-nine!” Herc protested. “That’s two years younger than me!”

“Spiritually, though,” John said. “Old Man Burr’s a total grandpa. Man brings a thing of tea to class. Every day. I bet it’s the flowery shit, too.”

“He owns at least seven umbrellas,” Laf added. “I have counted.”

“And he wears fuckin’ _sweater vests_.”

“I hate you all,” Herc said. “I clothe you, I feed you, and this is how you repay me. Why the hell are you two even up here, I thought you were watching over the pot.”

That’s when they all noticed the smell of burnt stew wafting up from the kitchen.

“Oh, shit,” John said.

.-.-.-.

That Friday, Herc went into the school and found Burr’s classroom, when class had ended. He’d memorized its location by now, could probably find his way to it blindfolded. The door was already held open with a wooden doorstop, and Aaron Burr stood at the front of the room, spraying down the whiteboards. 

The first time they’d met was two years ago, when he’d first started to foster Laf, who was entering their sophomore year. Burr had called Herc in when he noticed that Laf’s ESL teacher insisted on misgendering them, and quietly made arrangements to find them a private English teacher. He even paid for it out of his own pocket, and provided Laf a way to pay it back by offering them a position as a private French tutor for Burr's own daughter. 

Theodosia Jr., now ten years old, very intelligent and brighter than the sun. She liked horses and ponies, but unicorns were just _wrong_. A few months later, Laf smiled more, laughed louder, and began requesting clothes from Herc that really fit their preferences. 

Herc thought, Burr must be a good father.

Then there was John, who came six months later, fists and teeth moving quicker than he could think or speak. He had been caught spray-painting the schoolgrounds repeatedly. Herc thought the work was actually quite good, but having to pay school fines really hurt the monthly budget.

One day, a woman named Angelica Schuyler called the house. She worked at an after-school center for at-risk youth, and wanted to know if she could commission John to paint a mural for her. When Herc asked how she heard about his foster son, the phrase “a friend of my sister’s” came awkwardly off her lips. “He’s a history teacher who saw John’s work at school.”

Herc thought, Burr is a good father, and a kind man.

He didn’t understand until Ms. Schuyler’s words completely until Maria Lewis came along. She was a fourteen-year-old who had been with them for all of two weeks before Herc realized that she would never feel safe in a household that consisted predominantly of men. He realized he was going to have to call her case-worker to get her a new household. That’s when Burr put him into contact with the Bartow-Schuyler’s, a newlywed couple who were looking for advice on becoming foster parents.

Elizabeth and Theodosia Sr. fell in love with Maria almost immediately. According to Laf, when Herc asked later, Little Theo was ecstatic about soon having a new half-sister. 

Herc thought, Burr is a good father, and kind man, and _single_. 

He had only intended to repay Burr when he asked him out for lunch or dinner. But he was treated with a polite, placating expression that said No even when the words that came out were, “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Mulligan. Maybe some other time.”

It was disappointing, but understandable. A young bi Black man, raising a daughter from the time he was nineteen, in a “broken” household? Gossip spread quickly amongst parents, and Burr toed several lines every day as a teacher. 

Herc didn’t stop trying though, in small ways, to reach out. It became more important to him when he noticed that Burr didn’t have much in way of friends. His best workplace relationship seemed to be with Thomas Jefferson, from the Theater department. According to Laf, who took a class with him, Mr. Jefferson’s disdainful tolerance was apparently the surest sign of friendship. 

Ultimately, Burr kept his friends list minimal. His social media was practically under lock and key – he never accepted friend requests from students (rightfully so), and certainly not from any parents or guardians. No matter how many times they approached him at PTA meetings, offered him discounts at their shop, or gifted him with a very, very nice scarf last December. 

Nevertheless, Burr’s surprised smile when Herc handed him the neatly wrapped gift was encouragement enough. And, his Facebook profile updated that year. Burr and his daughter took a picture from a skating rink, where he wore the scarf, a deep royal blue with lines of silver thread making simple patterns along the edges.

It took several hours of John and Laf goading him before he ‘liked’ the picture on his phone. 

Now he was here, watching Burr, who still hadn’t seen him. He was shuffling some papers around, though Herc didn’t know to what end. According to John, the man was secretly an absolute mess when it came to organizing paperwork. Most of the extra credit he handed out to students involved paper sorting. 

Herc gave him a moment to finish, taking a look at some of the motivational posters that decorated the room. Gentle but firm quotes from Mary Wollstonecraft, MLK Jr., and other prominent figures lined the front wall in neat, laminated print. They were all, frankly, rather bland and cliché, but he couldn’t help but see some notion of _Burr_ in them anyway. 

“Mr. Mulligan,” Burr said, when he looked up. The familiar polite expression graced his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“’course,” Herc said. He stepped inside, noticing the heavy smell of paint products in the air. 

“Sorry about the smell. Jefferson has been telling his students to build all their props in my classroom, during lunch,” Burr sighed. 

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Herc suggested before he could stop himself. “Get some fresh air.”

Burr didn’t answer immediately. “It is a nice day out,” he said thoughtfully. 

“To be honest,” Herc said, “I ask because I’d rather not sit in one of your students’ chairs again.”

He lightly kicked one of the desk-tables; they had always been a tight fit for a man of Herc’s size. 

Burr laughed, an unexpectedly light burst of sound that slipped just so through Herc’s ribs. “Point taken,” he said. “Let me get my coat.”

Herc waited for him to finish locking the door behind him when he said, “Let me first apologize about Alex. He’s – having trouble adjusting. His last placement – things have been rough. He really doesn’t think that you’re…”

“A wet Q-Tip with about as much cotton coming out his mouth as his ass?” Burr said wryly. “Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean it literally.”

“He’s grounded for a _year_ ,” Herc said, pained. 

“I hope you don’t think I scheduled this meeting just because Alex flung a few insults at me in class. I don’t mind that we have disagreements on my teaching style. But I don’t think any teacher would allow a student to take up the entirety of class time because they want to rant about the effects of gentrification on inner cities. A topic worth addressing,” Burr added, “but we were discussing the First Amendment.”

“I’ll make sure Alex understands,” Herc said. “And I know about the other detentions, too.”

Burr bowed his head, sheepish. “I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t think it’d help this early in the placement to get him defensive. I wanted to wait for a better time.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad someone else is looking out for him,” Herc said. “Thank you. Seriously. You’ve been a real help, and not just with Alex, obviously.”

Before he even finished, Burr was already waving him off. “It’s nothing. Besides, I had my own reasons…” 

The way his voice trailed near the end made Herc think that maybe Burr hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. 

“What reasons might those be?”

Burr’s smile was thin and uneven, and Herc's thumb twitched towards it.

“The wellbeing of my students, what else?”

“What else,” he echoed.

“And,” Burr said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Discounts at Mulligan’s certainly don’t hurt.”

“You know, I’d believe that more if you actually came by the store,” Herc said with a raised eyebrow. 

“Point. I’ll have to let you know next time I need a scarf.”

By the time Herc started to wonder whether Burr was actually flirting back, they’d stopped in front of the main office. It was locked, but there was a paper holder fixed to the wall beside it, filled with stacks of colored paper. 

Burr flipped through them for a second before finding what he wanted. He turned to Herc, handing him a paper form. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s a club sign-up sheet. I want Alex to try out for the debate team.”

“Debate team? I thought you wanted him to talk _less_.”

“Well,” Burr said, “that is one of the goals. As a teacher, I'd like to see him learn to hone his arguments and trim the fat. Learn what information is really important, and what can be put aside."

He hesitated before continuing, "And as a father, I think that if I'm forced to shut him down every time he goes too far, and he often does, his verbal attacks may eventually become physical."

Were it anyone else, Herc's first instinct would have been to get defensive. He’d heard statements like Burr’s before, rooted in the stereotypes and prejudices associated with children in the system. 

But Herc didn't think that was the case with Burr, and not because of his… feelings. 

He recognized the eyes of someone who’d been forced to piece together a home of his own.

"I don’t know if he feels secure enough to take on any extracurriculars. Do you really think I can convince him?"

"Better than I can,” Burr said, his shoulders relaxing minutely. “I have the feeling any suggestions from me would just be met with suspicion.”

“So, keep quiet about this being your idea?”

“I think that would be the best approach. You can say you talked me down from making him the school mascot.”

“Hey now,” Herc protested. “I was the mascot of my high school, I’ll have you know. I made for a very dashing two-legged horse.”

-.-.-.-.-

“Aaron Burr hates Mr. Washington,” Alex announced a few months later. 

“Arms out,” Hercules said, reaching for his measuring tape. “Your debate coach? Why do you say that?”

“James Madison – he’s on the school paper – said there’s this Faculty Secret Santa thing. He heard from Abigail who heard from Sally who heard from Sam – no, from Will, that’s Mr. Burr’s TA – he got Mr. Wash a pair of socks. Gray, _practical_ ones.”

“Really,” Laf said from across the room, where they were trying on the coat that Herc just fixed up for them. “I heard he got him a $20 gift card for Starbucks.”

“Arms down.” Herc marked down some numbers on a pad and stuck a pen behind his ear. “Should I be worried that all of my foster kids seem to be taking it upon themselves to spy on the private affairs of one of their teachers?”

“You should be grateful, Herc,” John said. “Who else’d tell you that dating Old Man Burr’s gotta be more boring than a PBS documentary.”

“You’d be better off finding someone on ChristianMingle,” Alex agreed, joining John on the couch, and fist-bumping him.

“I think it would be nice,” Laf said. “M. Burr may be boring, spend way too much money on rainwear, and he probably wears socks in bed – ”

“Lafayette,” Herc said, “If there’s not a ‘but’ coming up, you can kiss this warrior costume good-bye.”

“But - he is objectively handsome, and he loves his daughter. And his cookies are quite good.”

“He made you fuckin’ cookies?” John said, jaw dropping. 

“Snickerdoodles,” Laf confirmed. “He made them for Mlle. Theodosia, and she shared.”

“Maybe he ain’t so bad,” John said thoughtfully. 

“Traitor,” Alex whined, punching him in the arm. 

.-.-.-.-.

The bell above the door rang.

“Welcome to the shop, we’re a mom and pop; and my pants look hot, I think you’ll like ‘em a – Burr!”

“Mr. Mulligan,” Aaron Burr said, a bemused smile playing on his lips. “I take it business is going well.” He was holding hands with a young girl, wearing a soft purple jacket with a white fluffy fringe around the collar.

“You could say that, yeah. And who is this?” Herc kneeled down towards the girl, who gazed at him with familiar brown eyes, jutting out a prideful lower lip. 

She stuck her gloved hand forward, and he shook it, completely dwarfing her tiny fingers with his own. “My name is Theodosia Burr. It’s nice to meet you,” she declared.

“Hello, Miss Burr, you can call me Herc.” 

She stared at him for a second, before nodding, seemingly satisfied with whatever she saw. “You can call me Theo. I would like a scarf, please.”

“Certainly. Do you have a style or color in mind?”

“Maria likes red,” Theo said, beaming. “She’s my new sister.”

“It’s a gift? That’s awesome! I can show you what we have over here.”

As she examined the selection, he went over to Burr, who was watching her with a soft expression Herc had never seen before. “That’s a cute kid you got.”

“She’s amazing,” Burr agreed. “Gets it all from her namesake.”

“She’s got your eyes.” Herc didn’t mean to be staring when Burr turned said eyes from his daughter to him. His face burned. “You can tell how smart she is. And happy.”

Burr, who had never so much as blinked in the past when Herc complimented or thanked him, practically melted at his words. “You think she is? Happy, that is?”

“I know it.”

He returned Burr's grateful smile before he could even think about it. Burr looked about to say something, then caught himself, and looked away, staring steadfastly at the coats.

Trying not to feel disappointed, Herc said, “I could give you a custom fitting.”

“That’s okay. I have enough winter coats-”

“You should do it,” Theo said, approaching them with a thick red scarf gathered in her arms. “Daddy’s coats are all the same. Black and gray.”

“Are they? That’s just not right.”

“I like Lafayette’s coats,” she said. “They always wear such beautiful colors.”

Burr’s face barely contained his distress. “Their style is a bit – luminescent for someone my age, Theo.”

Herc laughed. “I’m sure I could come up with something more to your taste. Why not give it a shot? Time and labor’s on the house.”

Burr raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think the discounts you offered extended this far.”

“It’s stacked on the holiday discount,” Herc said, waving a hand. 

“Do it, Daddy!”

That was how Herc learned that Aaron Burr would do anything for his daughter, and that included allowing him to take his measurements. He even got to take Theo’s, when she said it looked fun. 

They began to select a style. Herc was trying to convince Burr to go a few shades lighter brown than he wanted, when Alex came into the store, dragging a pair of skates behind him. “Yo, John fell on his ass on the ice, it was hilarious – oh. Hi, Mr. Burr, sir.”

“Alexander,” Burr nodded towards his student. “I trust you’re still practicing for the debate competition next semester?”

“We’ll kick their asses, sir,” Alex said. “Um. I mean butts.” He jumped when Theo giggled, but relaxed quickly. “Are you Mr. Burr’s daughter?”

Theo nodded. “I know you. Daddy says you’re really smart. But you’re also really stubborn. Like my momma.”

“I’m – he – really?” Alex squeaked. 

Burr coughed, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I think that we’re done here,” he said to Herc.

“Right – sure.” He gift-wrapped Theo’s chosen scarf and gave them the price, ignoring Burr’s skeptical look at suspiciously small amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Mulligan,” Burr said after paying.

“It’s Herc.”

They stared at Alex, who shrugged. “We – uh – it’s his store, his house. Here, we call ‘im Herc. Or Hercules, but that’s a little weird, so…”

“My apologies, Hercules.”

His name on Burr’s lips resounded through him with sharp sparks, like it was the first time he’d ever heard it. “Happy holidays, Burr.”

When they left, Alex sighed. “I guess he’s not the _worst_.”

.-.-.-.-.

“What’s Theo doing for the New Year?”

Laf looked up from the television thoughtfully. “I believe Mlle. Theo said she’ll be spending it with her mother, since she spent Christmas at M. Burr’s sister’s home. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” Herc shrugged. Then, after a moment, “Burr’s probably spending New Year’s with his sister, then. I can’t imagine he’d want to celebrate with his ex-wife, no matter how friendly their divorce.”

Laf’s lips quirked up. “I don’t think so. I heard he gifted his sister and her husband with a New Year’s trip to Spain.”

“Oh. Do you think –”

“For fuck’s sake,” John groaned, throwing one of his sketching pencils in Herc’s direction. “Just invite him over already! Alex tolerates him now, I couldn’t give half a shit, and Laf’s had his digits from Theo for fucking _ages_. Get that ass, man!”

.-.-.-.

“Aaron Burr, you made it!”

Herc grinned, opening the shop door to let him in. As they walked up to the apartment, Burr said, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I should come. It isn’t, to be frank, all that appropriate…”

“I’m really glad you did,” Herc said sincerely. “The boys are all happy to see you. I’m happy to see you.”

“Okay,” Burr said. He still didn’t look him in the eyes.

The kids greeted their history teacher warmly enough, if a little awkwardly. Laf had invited their friend Peggy, the youngest Schuyler sister and president of the GSA. Alex invited James Madison over since he’d been sick when his parents went to take a week-long vacation in Virginia. 

Conversation started off stilted, but eventually people began to relax once John began to tell them about his latest mural idea, and Peggy started on a pro-lifer she got into a fight with.

The kids talked happily amongst themselves. They were currently listening to Laf tell a story about Mr. Jefferson’s obsession with prop thrones that had wheels. They were sharing a bottle of sparkling cider, while Burr and Herc monopolized the bottle of red wine for themselves, sitting in the back.

“Alexander is performing very well in class,” Burr said. “He argues just as much, but is willing to let others speak, and he’s becoming more succinct and persuasive.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Herc said. “It’s because of you.”

Burr shrugged. “I disagree with Washington on several counts, but there’s no denying what a good coach he is.”

“… so, did you really give him gray socks for Secret Santa?”

“How did you – never mind. For the record, it was a very nice pair – you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not!”

“Hercules, good sir, wipe that grin off your face,” Burr said. But he was smiling too, and Herc couldn’t bring himself to worry. 

When he pulled himself together, he asked, “When will you be tenured?”

“Starting next year, if all goes well.” Burr said.

“That’s great! Congratulations.” Herc clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the holiday cheer, maybe it was the fact that he had recognized Burr’s coat to be the one he’d given him for Christmas. Whatever it was, Herc felt light and warm, and he thought that Burr felt it too. The thing that kept the polite space between them seemed to have dissipated. 

“You won’t be teaching Alex next year, right?”

Burr looked down at his glass. “No,” he said softly. “The next child you foster, maybe.” 

“I hardly think you’re the type to play favorites, Burr. You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you, again,” Burr said, but he didn’t seem too happy about it. 

“If it’s about Theo,” Herc started.

“No, she’s – she’s amazing. She’s the one who told me to come here, actually.” There was that uneven smile again. “Look, Hercules. I just…”

“It’s fine, Burr. It really is. I’m just letting you know - no matter what – I’m here, yeah?”

Burr nodded stiffly. They both jumped when John cried out, “Count it down, motherfuckers!”

Somewhere between ten and five, Burr’s fingers interlocked with Herc’s. 

Somewhere between four and the New Year, they shared their first kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Theodosia's maiden-name was Bartow, y'all, why is her Ao3 tag Prevost. I have fixed my error...
> 
> This all started because I had no idea what _in loco parentis_ meant and googled it.
> 
> I started out shipping hamburr, what happened
> 
> why burrcules have they ever even talked  
> hello rarepair hell
> 
> Also can I just say google tells me that John Hancock is slang for "signature", but I still think the entire world is lying to me because I've personally never heard it, but either way there's no way I'm not using that joke.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In Loco Parentis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464534) by [WhatsYourNameMan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsYourNameMan/pseuds/WhatsYourNameMan)
  * [Can I Buy You A Drink?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568205) by [WhatsYourNameMan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsYourNameMan/pseuds/WhatsYourNameMan)




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